


Worthwhile

by triste



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:06:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The main character has spoken. No objections allowed!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worthwhile

Title: Worthwhile  
Author: Triste  
Fandom: Hetalia  
Pairings: Fem!America/fem!England  
Rating: PG  
Warnings: Genderswitch  
Status: Complete  
Disclaimer: Not mine

~~

For England, summer was a time for complaining about the god awful heat, eating a lot of curry and drinking endless amounts of peppermint tea in order to cope with said temperatures. Summer made her even more snappish and irritable than usual. Being pestered by America didn’t help matters.

America, perhaps sensing this and displaying an uncharacteristic amount of tact and consideration, had invited England to the beach in order to “hang out and have fun”. England, because she didn’t have the energy to argue properly with America (but also because a trip to the seaside did sound rather nice), agreed. France, upon hearing about their plans (America never could keep a secret) had decided to invite herself and Canada along too, thus making it a double date.

England had not been impressed. She was even less pleased to find France already on the verge of rampaging pervert mode. It was difficult enough for France to control herself around fully clothed women, not that she ever tried too hard. Throwing scantily clad women into the mix was a recipe for disaster. Fortunately (or unfortunately, in England’s opinion), France’s attention was currently focused on her three companions, or more specifically on Canada.

“Why are you dressed like that?” she despaired. “We’re at the beach! It’s a crime to keep your body covered up!”

“Eh?” Canada glanced downwards. “I don’t see what the problem is. I prefer these kinds of outfits, to be honest.”

England couldn’t find anything wrong with the baggy shorts and hoodie Canada was wearing. It kept her shielded from the sun, plus it was very sensible. England approved of it. France, however, did not.

“You’re just being shy,” she insisted, reaching for the hem of Canada’s hoodie and tugging it upwards. “Show me that fabulous figure!”

England sighed, trying to tune out Canada’s protests and America’s catcalling of “get ‘em off!” As bad as she felt for poor Canada, at least France wasn’t bothering her.

“See?” France was considerably happier now that Canada was showing significantly more skin. “That’s better, isn’t it? Though, I do wish you’d picked a nicer swimsuit.”

Again, England couldn’t find anything wrong with Canada’s choice. Her one piece was a little plain and uninspiring (white with a red maple leaf on the front), but it was functional enough. It certainly left more to the imagination than France’s rose print bikini.

Canada continued to squirm in embarrassment. “Honestly, France-san. Did you have to do that right in front of everyone?”

“A figure like yours should be shown off with pride! You shouldn’t keep such impressive cleavage hidden away.”

Canada blushed and crossed her arms across her chest. America pouted, giving her own bikini top (stars and stripes, naturally) a little jiggle.

“They’re not *that* much bigger than mine,” she sulked. “My boobs are just as awesome, if not more so.”

“And how much effort did you go though to get in shape for this?” Canada said innocently, embarrassment forgotten as she seized the opportunity to get one up on America. “You went over to Japan-san’s house every day so you could lose weight by eating her food. Of course, you wouldn’t have to go to all that trouble if only you’d stop gorging yourself on hamburgers. It’s a given you’re going to get fat if that’s all you feed yourself with.”

It was America’s turn to blush this time, but her expression was considerably angrier than Canada’s had been. “Don’t look down on hamburgers! They’re one of the greatest inventions known to mankind!”

“But they make you fat.”

America stamped her foot. “Stop saying that word! Just because *you’ve* never had to watch your weight doesn’t mean you have the right to lord it over me!”

“No, but I can laugh at you when you’re being an idiot,” Canada smirked. “That’s my right as a sister.”

“Being skinny and having huge breasts isn’t right. It’s more natural for women to be buxom.”

They continued to bicker over petty and trivial things, trading insults and verbal jabs like professional boxers. England supposed she couldn’t really blame America for fighting back. Her weight was the one thing she was sensitive about. Canada, as was typical of a younger sibling, shamelessly exploited America’s one weakness. England couldn’t really blame her either, not after all the trouble she tended to find herself in thanks to America.

“They never change,” France said, amused. “It’s nice to see them getting along so well.”

England wasn’t sure if she would describe their behaviour as “getting along”, but the way France was grinning in her direction made England feel far more concerned for her own personal safety. “What?”

“You must be feeling lonely, you poor thing,” France crooned. “I bet you’re upset because no one has commented on your swimsuit yet.”

“There’s nothing to comment on,” England said curtly. “Unless you’re planning to deliver your usual witticism of ‘you’re as flat as ever’, of course, as you have been doing over the last few centuries.”

“I have nothing against underdeveloped women. You can only have so much fun with voluptuous ladies. That boyish body of yours has an entirely unique appeal.”

“Only to paedophiles like you and Spain.”

“Spain understands the thrill of doing something naughty and immoral. That’s what makes groping girls with such small bosoms so enjoyable.”

England shuddered, but France wasn’t finished yet.

“Besides, you can’t undermine the importance of the free body movement. All women should be topless when they’re at the beach! In fact, that’s what I think I’ll do right now. But it wouldn’t be any fun to go it alone. Join me in my quest to flash the flesh!”

France moved faster than England could predict, reaching behind her and giving the string of her bikini top a swift tug. England shrieked as it began to fall down, covering herself with one hand and attempting to strangle France with the other.

“What was that for, you silly cow?” she shrieked. “We’re in public, in case you’ve forgotten!”

“Public is best!” France said cheerfully, already having undone her own top and baring the upper half of her rather well endowed body for the world to see.

America came to England’s rescue by unscrewing one of the bottles they’d brought with them and dousing France with water. “Cool yourself off with that,” she ordered.

Relieved, England made herself decent again, tying her bikini string far more securely than she had done originally. If France tried to undress her again she would have considerably more trouble getting England’s knots undone this time.

“You okay?” America asked as Canada dried France with a towel (discreetly helping her back into her top in the process).

“I’m fine,” England said, adjusting her glasses primly. “I’ll just kill France later when it’s not quite so hot.”

America laughed. “I’m going for a swim. You coming?”

“A game of volley ball would be better,” France cut in, shameless as ever. “As is the bouncing that comes with it.”

“France-san,” Canada chided, shaking her head. “Show some restraint, please.”

“Let Canada handle her,” America whispered into England’s ear. “We’ll go elsewhere. She can’t molest you if you’re not there, right?”

America had a point. England let herself be led down to the water’s edge, preferring to remain quiet for once rather than complaining. America’s earlier enthusiasm seemed to have dimmed somewhat. England couldn’t help noticing.

“You’re frowning,” she said.

America rubbed the back of her head with her free hand sheepishly. “Ah, sorry about that. It’s just a little frustrating, you know? I wanted this to be a date, but it feels more like a family outing. We wouldn’t have been able to do anything as a couple if we’d stayed with those two.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t picked a fight with Canada,” England suggested.

“She started it. Don’t be fooled by her appearance. There’s a lot of snark disguised beneath that sweet and shy exterior.” Suddenly America snickered. “That said, at least I can more or less keep track of our arguments. Trying to figure out who started the first fight between you and France would be like asking whether the chicken came before the egg.”

England gave a derisive “hmph”. “France started it, though I’m sure she would insist otherwise.”

“Yeah, well, from now on it’s just the two of us. We’ll find a spot all of our own and pretend those other guys don’t exist. By the way,” America added, “Canada was right, much as I hate to admit it. I did work out like crazy about a month in advance for this. All that hard work paid off, huh?”

It certainly had, England thought as she ran her gaze over America’s toned and slender body. “Well,” she said grudgingly, “it’s only natural for you to want to look your best at this time of year. Any woman would.”

“Idiot.” America squeezed England’s hand. “The time of the year isn’t important. The one that I want to look good for is you.”

England’s face flooded with warmth. “You didn’t have to go so far. It’s not like you looked awful before. The only things you need to change about yourself are your lack of manners and your attitude, but I doubt you’ll bother trying to fix either of those.”

America made a disappointed “boo” noise. “Just be honest and tell me how awesome I am. Go on, say something like ‘God, you’re hot’ or, ‘I’d hit that,’ or whatever the British equivalent would be.”

“I will not,” England said, flushing even darker. “It’s undignified.”

She couldn’t bring herself to compliment America. It wasn’t out of resentment or spite but because it was still too embarrassing for her to say how she really felt. America continued to sulk over England’s lack of response over the next few minutes before snapping back out of it as soon as they reached the water. “Let’s swim! It’d be a waste not to. We came here to have fun, remember?” She leaned down and pressed a fleeting kiss to England’s cheek before she could protest. “Enjoy yourself. That’s the whole point of this exercise, isn’t it?”

America ran off, laughing. England was left awkwardly touching the spot America had kissed. She knew full well how good a swimmer America was. She’d always been strong physically, even as a youngster. England could see that strength now for herself as America set off, nearly drowning everyone unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity with her butterfly stroke.

Now that England thought about it, she probably should have saved her concern for the general public. She idly wondered what France was doing as she paddled in the shallow end of the water. She hadn’t heard any screams or other such commotion from the distance she and America had retreated to, so she could only assume Canada was effectively doing her job at preventing France from molesting anyone within reach.

Besides, Canada wasn’t the pushover people seemed to think she was. Like America, she could handle herself, or so England hoped. It was just a shame Canada had left Kumajirou at home. Beaches and polar bears didn’t exactly mix, but Kumajirou was an effective deterrent when it came to France. For some reason, she could never seem to “get in the mood” (as she put it) while Kumajirou was present.

A splash to the face brought England out of her musings with a jolt. She scowled. America was the culprit, unsurprisingly.

“Don’t go getting all pouty on me. It only makes me want to kiss you when you make your mouth look that inviting.”

“It wasn’t intentional! And stop sounding like France. The world can only handle one overly hormonal pervert.”

“Relax. I’m not going to grope you or anything, at least not in front of other people. It’s going to be a different story once we get back home, though. You won’t object to doing it behind closed doors, will you?”

England glanced around to make sure there was nobody within listening range. “Of course not. Privacy is paramount. A certain amount of discretion is also advisable. In other words, don’t let France know what you’re planning to do later. She’s already invited herself along once. She also doesn’t know the difference between double date and orgy.”

America saluted. “I get it. We’ll use Canada as bait and sneak off while France is occupied with molesting her. Or I could, you know, pretend to get a little over exuberant and knock her out with a Frisbee.”

“Burying her would work.”

“With sand?”

“I’d prefer concrete.”

England smiled. One thing guaranteed to put her in a better mood was discussing different methods of making France miserable.

A prod to the cheek distracted her into looking over at America.

“I know that face,” America said. She sounded half amused, half exasperated. “It’s the ‘I’m busy thinking of ingenious and hilarious ways to torture France, so don’t interrupt’ one.”

England turned away, guilty as charged.

“You should be thinking of me instead,” America continued, embracing England from behind and leaning down so she could speak softly into her ear. “Think of my sexy boobs and abs and everything else that’ll be waiting for you once we get back.”

“Your opinion of yourself is sky high, as usual,” England retorted.

“So it should be. Even a heroine needs to work hard at keeping herself in shape and her other half happy.”

“You mean better half.”

“Okay then, sidekick-slash-love interest. Because that’s what you are, right? The main character has spoken. No objections allowed!”

England would have scowled if only America weren’t looking so endearingly pleased with herself. She couldn’t bring herself to slip out of America’s arms, not even when America began playing with her pigtails.

“So,” America said, resting her chin on England’s shoulder. “Are you glad you came today?”

England almost replied with an instinctive “of course not, idiot” but for once chose to be honest, or at least as close to it as she could come. “Maybe,” she said vaguely.

“Good. I guess that makes things all worthwhile.”

America was smiling. England could tell. She didn’t have to see it to know.

 

End.


End file.
